


Our Regent

by ozsia



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: BAMF Women, Captivity, Chapter 10 Divergence, Character Death, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Loss, Freedom, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Motherhood, Multi, Nothing is overly explicit, Or people make the most of things, Postpartum Depression, Pregnancy, Psychological Torture, Things Get Better, Torture, Women In Power, alternative universe, honestly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: Chrom tilts his head back to her, eyes already fluttering feebly. He had so much to give, so much to do - this…shouldn’t be the end. This shouldn’t be /his/ end. Still, a brilliant smile transforms his pallid gaunt face and Robin cannot pretend anymore, cannot pretend that things were as they were.But for a second, everything is right, like they’d been transported to before they were separated from their army at the Border Pass and captured by Mustafa’s men. Before they lost Lady Emmeryn.





	Our Regent

‘Sire? Robin?’ Frederick calls, though the voice that echoes through the prison doesn’t mesh with Robin’s memory of the knight. She can’t spare him a glance now, can’t bear to look up from the fading light in corbel eyes. She didn’t when their guards took off running after hearing a disturbance from above, or even when the door so far out of her reach swung open. Her concentration will not wane. 

It's time now - _his_ time, and she will not miss this, could not blink and lose seeing him pass. 

‘Fred - Freddy,’ Chrom croaks, voice like shattered crystal as it cracks around the name of a man sworn to protect him; around a friend. It doesn’t take much more than the nickname for Frederick to jolt out of his stupor, as if shaking out of his skin. He comes hurrying forward with his armour clanking with every rushed step. The cell door that they both pressed and beat against is nothing for Frederick’s lance. Robin cannot even appreciate seeing the metal bend and break, too destroyed. Whoever else he’s brought down here stays frozen by the exit, more statue than guard.

Frederick steps over the gate’s skeleton and is quick to drop to his knees in front of them, his legendary composure thrown to the winds at the sight of them. Robin does not need to imagine the state they’re in; does not bother to see how they look to Frederick. She stopped keeping track of the number of days for they were imprisoned. Or rather, she lost its number and she imagines it adds to their state. 

(There was a single barred window inlaid into the stone of this dreaded place, about the size of her foot bootless, and it's utterly useless for anything but mocking the idea of freedom. She once counted by the dying of the sun until she didn't.)

They’ve been imprisoned for a lost number and that time stolen and used against them, showed. The Plegian hospitality is anything but kind. Their appearance is the first example; Robin’s undressed state, Chrom without Falchion or the Fire Emblem and both with too many injuries to count. 

She can’t bring herself to care. Robin forgot her pride early, as it was swept away by her pragmatism. Her shame soon followed. 

‘Oh,’ Frederick whispers after assessing them - Chrom, who’s in her lap and approaching his last tortured breath. ‘Oh, Chrom.’ 

Robin has to swallow a sob. She’s had to get used to the idea that Chrom will soon be gone with all the taunts they’ve endured. Every cruel word a weapon. But someone else acknowledging it, acknowledging what’s been done to Chrom is almost enough to unravel her. 

What ailed him is painted into his skin with darkened patterns stretching across his limbs and face; veins darkened to purples and blacks. His nails are like shadows and his fingers are almost brittle, limbs weakening. He's  _grey._  All symptoms of the Degradation from repeated exposure from the Flux tome.

(The Flux tome is weakest out of the Elder magic but it had its victims. Robin knew how it can corrode the body and lead to an early death, where the last moments are filled with suffering. Robin knew that, but she never expected she would have to experience it. And not with Chrom. There's no way to undo this damage, the degradation will just shut down the body down.)

‘H-how long -?’ Frederick’s stuttering enquiry may have been directed towards Robin as he recognised Chrom’s condition. but she couldn’t process it. She can't find it in herself to respond, but that may have been an answer in and of itself.

‘It’s alright,’ Chrom breathes out in reassurance, even when _everything_ is wrong. He shakily sacrifices one of the hands Robin has been safeguarding to reach out to his knight. To Frederick who throws propriety to the wind to grasp hold of it. ‘It’s alright, old friend.’ 

‘This is the very definition of _not_ alright, Milord,’ Frederick retorts sharply but with the end of a blunt sword. It might as well be white noise to Robin who's numbering Chrom’s thready inhales, calculating every expansion of Chrom’s chest. Every one is a pained miracle.

‘It’ll - have to be,’ Chrom mutters as he hazily looks to Frederick. Frederick who must’ve been out of his mind with worry since they were taken. Who would have taken charge and who’d brought their forces upon this territory. 

‘Chrom…What -’ Frederick hesitates, seemingly at a loss. He must’ve been hoping for a better result; they were all here, only to find them like this. Dying and injured and scarred and all together changed. 

Chrom coughs, loses his breath as his lungs forget their purpose; squeeze and go lax inside of him as his organs had begun to fail. He chokes as he struggles to find purchase, gasps for oxygen. The Degradation was in it’s final stage and Chrom’s lips were blue. There was no amount of feeling that could fix this now, if they'd gotten here sooner...

Chrom’s grip tightens suddenly ‘ _Freddy_ -’ the tone is demanding, filled with desperation but tempered by it’s determination. ‘For the morrow, I - I -’ Chrom shudders, eyes glasses as he tries to stare at Frederick with an uneven focus. 

‘…yes, Milord?’ Frederick prompts quietly. He sounds like he’s going to cry, it’s like something has been knocked loose, something profoundly stabilising. Now, there was an unbalance that was terribly uncharacteristic.

‘I need you to do - do something for me, please.’ Robin’s lips tremble and she forces herself to bite down on them to make them stop. _Not yet,_ she tells herself. _Not yet._ Soon, but not yet.

‘…anything,’ Frederick agrees, inching forward as he tightens his grasp on Chrom’s hand. ‘You have my word.’ 

Chrom smiles, it’s weak and crooked but so many manners of relieved. ‘Take - take care of her - of…Robin.’ There is a plea in there and it is more than Robin deserves - to be his last request. Chrom is so sincere, too. She wished he’d be more selfish even if they had made vague plans towards this end, if reinforcements reached them while she was in one piece.

There is a pause and Robin feels Frederick’s assessing gaze land on her. There was a burning weight to it, intensive if not unkind. ‘Sire - forgive me,’ Frederick behind shakily. Robin is too deadened to react. ‘But - but is it…yours? Is the baby yours?’ 

There is a sharp intake of breath from the door. She would feel shame if she had any to spare. With how Robin was hunched over Chrom, his head in her lap and his body draped over her legs, it probably hid most of her condition from the newcomers, it definitely had from the Plegians. The swell of her stomach was quite noticeable though and her lack of dress emphasised her rounded middle. 

‘Y-yes.’ The sadness in Chrom’s voice at the insinuation was palpable. Robin’s skin crawled with remembrance. ‘T-those - those…dastards would hurt her, but I - I am -’ he coughs again and blood splatters paints his lips red. Robin reaches out with her free hand, and brushes it away with with her thumb and tries to ignores how it shakes against Chrom’s cold skin.

‘The only man I’ve known,’ she finishes for him and attempts to return the smile Chrom gives her. It was so much easier to think of it like that and it brings Chrom comfort which is all she needs. She does not recognise her own voice and with how Frederick startles, neither does he. It was hoarse and she kept her voice low with how they’d liked to make her scream. 

Frederick watches as she threads her fingers through Chrom’s hair, and she almost wants to tell him not to waste time on her. He follows her movement with an eagle eye. ‘Sire,’ he breathes in shock. ‘Is that -’

‘Freddy,’ Chrom chides, a tone that Robin hadn’t heard too often. She absently wonders if the moniker is from childhood with how long she suspected they’d known each other. ‘W-we knew this was coming. Ylisse - Ylisse needs a ruler and Lissa - she hasn’t reached her majority and - and we still have things we h-have to do. Things t-the council would stop.’ His breath hitches and he struggles to continue. ‘But even without - without, I would have g-given her my ring. I love her, fool I am t-to burden her - her with this now.’

The ring he’d kept since birth; the ring he’d lost a hundred times over but kept finding again despite himself. The ring which’d burnt her skin when he’d slid it over her promise finger, hot from the Plegian sun and was just as heavy as Chrom’s weight against her now.

‘You’ve…planned for this?’ Frederick asks falteringly.

Chrom lets out a weighty laugh which is strangled and breaking. ‘W-who do you think you’re talking to?’ he asks in datum with the fondest of looks towards Robin. ‘…the worse the situation became, the more our plans had to change.’

‘…of course,’ Frederick says in acceptance. ‘I…have followed you since I was given into your service. I will help in this, please…rest easy.’ The promise isn’t as reluctant as Robin had feared, it is far more earnest than Robin expected with how lamentable their relationship was.

‘Is - is…Lissa?’ Chrom asks haltingly.

Frederick jolts, as if burnt. ‘We - we shall send for her -’ he hadn’t thought of their condition, probably decided to leave their strongest healer on the battlefield. It hadn’t been a bad idea, just shortsighted. Robin desperately wished Frederick had left it all to Maribelle.

Chrom weakly shakes his head. ‘No,’ he breathes and by the sound Robin’s stomach finds room to further drop. ‘Not now. Just, t-tell her…tell her that I love her and t-that I’m sorry. For l-leaving her.’ He tries to squeeze Frederick’s hand. ‘Tell her - tell her that she’s not alone and t-that she’s strong, I-I believe in…her.’

Frederick swallows. ‘Yes, Milord.’ 

‘And - and m-my men,’ Chrom states unevenly. ‘T-thank them, for their…s-service, for me. I-I’m leaving them in - in good hands.’

‘…I know they are.’ Frederick leans forward, smoothing Chrom’s fringe out of his eyes. ‘Thank you, Chrom. It - it has been an honour.’ They both pretend not to hear the crack of Frederick’s voice or its wet quality. 

Chrom tilts his head back to her then, eyes already fluttering feebly. He had so much to give, so much to do - this…shouldn’t be the end. This shouldn’t be _his_ end. Still, a brilliant smile transform his pallid, gaunt face but Robin cannot pretend anymore, cannot pretend that things were as they were. But for a second, everything was right, like they’d been transported to before they were separated from their army at the Border Pass and captured by Mustafa’s men. Before they lost Lady Emmeryn.

His smile had been another thing she’d lost and its return now unsettled her stomach. Chrom’s breathing labours, falters. Robin grasps hold of his jawline as if to hold him in place, to keep his soul on this plain. ‘Chrom,’ she whispers and she wants to ask more than anything - _don’t leave me,_ but she traps it on her tongue, because that’d be cruel and she wants to make this as painless for him as it could be.It was awful to ask someone to stay when they had no choice in leaving.

‘Hey,’ _goodbye._

‘Hey yourself,’ Robin replies softly, always careful with disturbing the air around them now. Chrom hadn’t minded that she’d grown quiet, though to which she was grateful. _Hey_ rang out falsely as the _goodbyes_ they couldn’t get out buzzed silent, but not unnoticed between them. Saying it would be like acknowledging it, would be _conceding_ to it. Her tongue refused to form the word.

Chrom tries to swallow. ‘H-have you - you read _D-Dusk to Dawn?’_ he asks her, apropos of nothing. It was spontaneous and Robin couldn’t bring herself to care. It was better than the approaching alternative.

‘No,’ she says as she listens to his voice, the beating of his heart as she desperately tries to commit them to her memory. She wishes they had more time, but wishes are for fools, impossible and implausible. Everything he is would be gone soon and Robin wanted to be able to keep more than impressions of him. It wasn’t like her mind was a reliable thing, and her notebook would not be able to hold onto the parts of Chrom she wanted to keep. 

‘I - I think…that’d be good,’ he tells her. Robin cannot understand and she cannot ask him his meaning. 

‘Alright,’ Robin agrees because she’ll give him anything else left of her that she has not already handed to him. ‘Alright.’ 

His hand slips from her’s, climbs the air to her face and disturbs the hang of her hair to cup her check. Frederick chokes as he catches a glimpse of what they’ve done to her. Chrom grasps her so firmly she thinks he’ll leave a bruise. Robin does not care, hopes dearly that he does. ‘Sword at my side,’ he utters. He is not trying to break her but Chrom has always been stronger than Robin.

‘Wind at my back,’ she whispers in return. Robin bends down uncomfortably to press their foreheads together. His eyes flicker to her extended middle.

‘Light of tomorrow,’ Chrom states to them as he rubs into the bump, into a child he will not be able to meet.

_It wasn’t fair,_ a traitorous voice in her mind screeches. She pushed it down. ‘They’ll get that from you,’ she says.

Chrom’s smile glows even if his eyes are watering. The light is fading though, his heartbeat thready and slow against her fingertips and those moments where they are in each others arms, in the suspending silence as Chrom took another breath, it just…leaves her.

Chrom’s hand falls from her face, and he grows ever heavier against her. She inhales shudderingly, holds it as Robin holds onto him tighter. A Plegian poem enters her mind, one of farewells in mourning. She whispers it into his skin, wishing him a peaceful journey and waits. There is a climbing of emotion, something which is boiling over as she rocks away her hopes and her dreams to a tranquil end. 

The hearing was suspected to be the last thing to leave them and she holds onto her composure, holds onto it as war rages over her head until she cannot anymore. The scream that erupts from her chest is guttural and raw, and leaves at the same time the first tear falls. 

* * *

The cold embrace of water shatters the unconsciousness that had wrapped her up in darkness. Robin jolts awake and stills almost immediately when her arms pull uncomfortably as she springs up. Her vision jolts down to her wrists and her stomach knots - falls to her toes, when she sees the manacles encircling them. She is chained to a bolt in the ground.

‘Good morning, little tactician,’ a manic voice chuckles. She’d recognise it anywhere as she swivels to gaze at him. Untidy red hair, a crown encircling the spikes of blood locks. Eyes which are beady and dark, madness stretched across a sharp face. Gangrel. 

‘Gangrel,’ Robin snarls, a deep growl erupting from her throat even while mentally taking stock of herself, her state of undress, her lack of weapons - the compromising position they have put her in. She was relatively uninjured despite the wound sluggishly bleeding from her collarbone to her right breast, though.

_Why am I still alive?_

‘Ah, now you don’t sound too happy to see me, little bird,’ the man cooed, knelt before her as he props his chin up with the palm of his hand to look down on her. He is enjoying this, her powerlessness.

She scowls, is about to say something cutting when someone beats her to it. 

‘Leave her alone you dastard!’

Chrom.

_No_ , she thinks as terror lights a fire in the hands that have been captured. _No, please._ To the far corner of the cell is her prince, slumped against the wall, holding his stomach and without the strength to straighten.

The true situation dawns on her as the mad king laughs at them, clouding the air in his taint. ‘There’s no need for that type of language, princeling.’ Gangrel tsks in a scolding tone that makes Robin want to strangle him. ‘There’s a lady present.’

Robin swallows down her outrage. ‘How do you think you’ll get away with this?’ she asks quietly and removes her eyes from his blue to stare piercingly up at Gangrel. ‘You’ve kidnapped the next in line for Ylisse’s crown after killing her exalt.’

‘I have both Ylisse’s commanding officers here. When they come for you, I’ll be able to pick them off in the disorganisation.’ Gangrel’s grin is ugly. Chrom’s booming voice drains from her hearing as her nails cut into her palms. 

_Why would you_ want _to?_ She doesn’t ask. Chrom’s mention of the war his father raged is reason enough.

‘You underestimate us,’ Robin can’t help but grit out. ‘And the Feroxian’s Khans will be even less impressed.’

‘It’s of little consequence,’ Gangrel shrugs carelessly as he moves to stand over her. ‘I’m holding all the cards.’

‘Fine.’ Robin squeezes her eyes shuts. ‘Fine. Maybe you’ve won us with this battle, but if you think the war is yours by taking us, you’re very much mistaken.’ From the second she’d woken up, without memory, she’d been at war. She knew her army well. They would not succumb to this.

‘I wouldn’t bet your life on it,’ Gangrel grins. 'This my dear, is the beginning of your end.’

* * *

‘Robin,’ Frederick calls her name tentatively. It as gentle as he has ever spoken to her. She blinks up at him, at the dark of his eyes, the wet trials drawn down his face.  ‘Milady, we must go.’

She considers this. There is dust falling from the ceiling, the castle rattling and shaking. Her tears had since dried in the heat from the break down she’d indulged in and the battle exploding upstairs was finally acknowledged in her brain, deemed as something she needed to deal with. 

Robin licks her dry, cracked lips. She meets Frederick’s gaze properly, and although she has not moved her hair back in place from where Chrom had disturbed it, he does not flinch from her though his gaze is devastated. ‘Yes,’ she agrees but her form had long since melded into Chrom’s and she is no longer certain where he ends and she begins. Robin needs to untangle herself but letting him go feels like a betrayal. 

Frederick helps her, aids in taking some of Chrom’s weight and shifting his limp body out of her lap. It has an almost visceral effect on the knight even as he attempts to remain professional. Robin almost regrets that she cannot do it by herself, for the pain she is causing Frederick. ‘Panne,’ he calls and almost immediately the taguel is by their side. Every angle of the woman’s body is angry and her expression is murderous. ‘Please aid Lady Robin.’ 

Robin doesn’t have time to blink before there is a lightly furred hand on her shoulder, never mind properly hear what Frederick had addressed her by. Panne is gently though, touches her like she is something delicate. ‘Can you stand, Robin?’ Panne asks, voice unusually soft. Robin looks down at herself, at her injuries that were either still healing or had healed badly. She shakes her head. ‘Alright.’

Panne uses her strength to get Robin to her feet, a supportive arm encircling Robin’s back with all the power of a people on the cusp of destruction. She liked Panne, liked the woman’s determination, her moral fibre. Robin liked Panne but as soon as she was steady, she pulls away. It hurts, everything in her wants to slump back into Panne and Panne would let her - but they had wanted Robin on her knees, which is why she had to walk. 

Panne seems to understand and is at her side every step, even if Robin needs some help to coordinate over the cell door, a lump of twisted metal in her way. She can’t watch Frederick gather his lord in his arms to carry out, and concentrates on not tripping instead.

Robin feels numb, a faux calm settling on top of her like a second skin. The knot of instability is still there, making a tangled mess of her insides that she forces herself to push down. She just has to - walk. Every step is painful, the soles of her feet are nothing but thin, cut into skin, and it makes every inch forward that much more difficult as Robin makes her way to the door and the two knights watching her. 

Sully and Stahl, two of the original Shepherds that had been the first to greet Robin as friend, as companion. Sully is the easiest to look at her with the brave face she’s put up, the fire that is burning from her. That vibration of anger is better for Robin, she cannot handle Stahl’s gentle hurt, his too wet eyes, the misery in the set of his lips. 

Sully meets Robin's eye, a direct but calculating look. She thumps her chest with her fist, a salute. ‘Lady Robin,’ she greets in an acknowledgement. Robin struggles to swallows, struggles against the tide of _this isn’t what I want. this isn’t what I want._

‘The battle,’ Robin begins, head inclined at Sully who straightens. 

‘Not to worry,’ Frederick is quick to reassure her but that’s not what she wanted. ‘We will be able to leave without -’

‘What formation did you leave my men in?’ Robin demands though the possessive use of the word “my” had taken up a new meaning with the ring on her finger.

‘Milady -’ Frederick begins but is interrupted.

‘Frederick,’ Sully cuts in. ‘She ain’t no pansy. You gonna call her that, you’re gonna answer her.’

‘…battle plan B,’ Frederick replies haltingly, ‘but you cannot seriously be -’

Robin turns to him, an uptick on her lips that makes him fall silent. ‘Frederick the Wary,’ she addresses, almost fondly. ‘It’s good to see you.’ His entire face falters. She had not meant to hurt him - or maybe she had. She felt unbalanced as she turned back around, and stepped past both Sully and Stahl, who didn’t seem sure what to do with her either though the red knight had found a purpose to follow.

Robin almost falters when Stahl opens the door and she sees the stock of orange hair on the stairs leading up to another door. Frederick must have used Gaius' talent at unlocking things. The thief’s arms are crossed and he’s leant casually up against the wall, but his expression isn’t so unaffected as he looks at her. ‘Bubbles.’ He’s watchful, alert and there’s a severity that adds maturity to his face. ‘The fight’s right outside if that’s what you’re after.’ 

‘Yes,’ Robin says because her men are out there, but more than that…she couldn’t leave while allowing these people to have the bested her. 

‘You’re very unarmed.’

Robin doesn’t need to look down at herself. Chrom had stripped out of his jacket for her and it was the one piece clothing other than her underwear that she had to protect her modesty. Her weapons were a distance memory but she cared little about that.

_‘Gaius,’_ Frederick says warningly.

‘I am aware,’ Robin replies. She looks at Gaius - Gaius who’d been under contract with Chrom, who’d followed them for longer than any of them expected. ‘…is candy still payment enough?’

This, at least, seems to surprise Gaius and he blinks at her for a moment. He pauses but when he says ‘yeah,’ Robin simply nods.

Gaius sighs and shifts. He unwinds the long scarf from his neck and hands it to her without ceremony. 'Wrap that around your waist.' It isn't necessarily a demand but Robin does as she's told and ties it around her. After one more critical look, he pulls a dagger out from behind him and inserts it into the sash. The metal rests the delicate parts of her flesh but Robin doesn't care.

' _Thief -'_ Frederick growls in an outrage he'd never expressed in regards to Robin before. 

Gaius doesn't even wince as he nods in satisfaction. 'Alright, Bubbles. After you.' He gets out of her way, and she presses on without any further word. He falls into step with her and Panne and doesn’t comment when they need to help her conquer the staircase. ‘Here you go, Bubbles,’ he says when he opens the other door and lets the last veil of protection go.

Robin’s focus immediately snaps to her troops as she hurries out of the dark staircases’ reach. The Shepherds are easy to distinguish from the Plegian forces as a bulk of them have been set up to hold their ground around the door, in protection. Though some of their outer units are losing ground. Ricken, himself, has just been thrown back into the wall nearest Robin’s small party. His tome gets knocked out of his young hand and skids along the stone floor, landing in front of her. 

Ricken panics as he looks to where it had travelled and they are soon staring at each other. His eyes grow large, alarmed. Robin bends slowly to retrieve the weapon. ‘Thoron,’ Robin either states or greets, she cannot tell. She knows it is not her tome, can tell that instantly though why Ricken would have lightning when out of the Anima magic, he favoured air, was anyone’s guess. ‘I am burrowing this,’ she tells him. As a mage, it was a requirement to have more than one tome, he’d be fine.

‘What?’ Ricken splutters as he glances to her stomach and then the tome. ‘Robin -?’

She does not listen as she cracks the book open, feels the hum of magic against her skin as she calls the storm that had been building in her since wakening up without her liberty. The battlefield stills as she starts to glow. Robin can taste ozone over the iron in her mouth, feels her fingers grow frigid with lightning’s power dancing around them, through them.

_If there is a successful rescue,_ they'd whispered between the two because hope hadn't been beyond them, and they had a full people to think about, _let's be prepared._

The ring she wore and the life nestled in her carcass of a body were, although genuine in emotion, all fashioned to bring about the peace Lady Emmeryn had strived for. Robin was not Lady Emmeryn, and as good as Chrom was, he was not his sister either. She would not have thought of this, would not have necessitated a plan like this. 

Emmeryn was not here anymore. 

Just Robin remained out of the three of them and she alone could end this now.

She would end this.

She does not remember the first shot she takes with Thoron, or her last nor any in-between.

**Author's Note:**

> So, um. I'm actually really sorry about this one. I'm not sure If I want to post it haha. This was meant to be a one-shot but then material in my head kept popping up and I don't have a lot of time haha. I'm not overly impressed with how I've written this but...this is kind of stuck with me last night and I just had to. 
> 
> This story shouldn't be too-too long, it'll just be an exploration of this idea.
> 
> Sorry, again, that this is such a mess :/.


End file.
